Reaper HQ – CIA Base

  Location: White marble bathroom with infinite front lighting

  Sílvia sits on a minimalist bench while Fabrizio, with an expression of absolute concentration, trims the ends of his sister’s wolf cut. The reflection in the mirror shows two nearly identical faces, pale and possessed of a cold beauty, contrasting with the metal of the weapons resting on the counter.

  "Do you think the white of my hair is losing its luster to the walls of this place, Fabri?" Sílvia asks, touching a strand with her slender fingers while watching her brother through the glass. "Sometimes I feel like I’m disappearing, becoming part of the CIA’s scenery."

  Fabrizio finishes aligning her bangs and begins running a fine-tooth comb through his own white-blonde hair. "Consider it impossible. You shine brighter than the LEDs in this ceiling, Sílvia," he replies in his calm, taciturn voice. "Besides, Jester’s cameras never lose sight of you. You are the focal point of this lab."

  "Sometimes I wish they would," she sighs, tilting her head so he can adjust the back. "The memories of Dad and the pain feel more real when the silence here gets too loud. Do you feel it too?"

  Fabrizio stops the comb mid-motion and places a hand on his sister's shoulder, squeezing it lightly in a gesture of pure protection. "I feel nothing but the duty to keep you alive, Sílvia. If the memories return, we cut them down with our scythes. Now, finish fixing mine."

  Location: Tactical Training Room

  Ian is cleaning the barrel of his black military rifle with a microfiber cloth, sitting perfectly upright. Elijah is upside down, balancing only on his hands, keeping his body static while watching Ian with a gentle and unsettling smile.

  "Zack’s deck said the wind in Cascade would be in favor of your shots today, Ian. You should smile a little. A perfect execution deserves an expression of pleasure, don't you think?"

  Ian doesn't look away from the rifle part, his hands moving with precision. "Luck is an irrelevant variable for those who master ballistics, Elijah. And pleasure is noise that interferes with execution," he replies pragmatically.

  "You’re so functional, Ian. That’s why we’re the best duo. You’re the cold calculation, and I’m the dance. I can’t wait to see how the necks of our new targets snap under your silence."

  "Just make sure you don't dance in my line of sight," Ian says, finally assembling the rifle with a satisfying metallic click. "Orders are orders. The ritual is yours, but the final result is my responsibility."

  Location: The White Room

  Diego is lying upside down on the sofa, his skull earrings swaying as he tosses a (deactivated) smoke grenade into the air and catches it. Zack is sitting at the glass table in front of him, building a gravity-defying house of cards with one hand.

  "Zack, do you think if we painted one of the walls black, Silas would kill us?" Diego asks with a vibrant smile, trying to cheer up his partner. "All this white makes me want to throw a paint party. Or blow something up in neon colors."

  Zack blows gently on the card house and pulls the Ace of Hearts from the bottom, making it all collapse. "The cards say Silas has no sense of humor regarding decor, Diego. But fate loves surprises. Maybe we’ll find a little color on today’s mission."

  Diego jumps up and lands sitting, his eyes sparkling. "That’s what I’m talking about! Luck and agility. I prep the smoke, you clear the field with the M4, and we get back in time to see Jester do that trick where the coins disappear. What do you think?"

  "I bet ten luxury buns that Jester is going to be in a bad mood today," Zack replies, putting the deck away with a perfect fan motion. "But the deck is never wrong: today is our lucky day."

  Location: Cargo Bay

  Silas analyzes a clipboard, crossing off items with a tactical pen. "Healthy rations, check. Aiden’s specific cleaning supplies, check. Andrew’s idiotic candy, check. What? Pineapple-flavored condoms? Who checked this on the form?"

  The soft hum of a hoverboard motor echoes through the white warehouse. Jester appears gliding in, wearing his blue and red suit, balancing with one hand on his hip while the other flashes a "peace" sign.

  "That was me, Silly! Life at the CIA is so sterile, don't you think?" Jester replies in his high-pitched, bouncy clown voice. "We need a little tropical flavor for when the world finally ends. The pineapple is the symbol of hospitality, did you know?"

  Silas snaps the clipboard shut with a dry crack, staring at Jester’s cloth mask with superhuman patience. "We are biological assassins, Jester, not a summer camp. Don’t mess with my inventory again or I’ll let Lil handle your next drone maintenance."

  "Oh, such a grump! But admit it, you smiled on the inside," Jester laughs, doing a 360-degree spin on the hoverboard before speeding toward the back of the bay. "I’ll put them in Andrew’s drawer; he’ll think they’re gummy bears!"

  Location: Base Interior Hydroponic Garden

  Sílvia is sitting on a metal bench, staring at the artificial plants with a melancholy gaze. Suddenly, Jester appears floating on his hoverboard, hiding something behind his back while his bells give off a soft, intentional jingle.

  "Attention, attention! The Queen of Death looks a bit withered today!" Jester exclaims in his high, animated voice. He makes a quick hand movement, like a magic trick, and reveals a small bouquet of real wildflowers, picked from some dangerous corner of the forest.

  Sílvia looks at the flowers and, for a brief second, the paleness of her face is broken by a genuine, sweet smile. "Real flowers, Jester? Where did you get these? I thought everything here was made of plastic and steel."

  "A court jester never reveals his hiding spots, Silvia!" he gives an exaggerated bow, nearly losing his balance on the hoverboard. "I saw they matched your eyes. Smile more; the white of this base looks much better when you do."

  "Thank you, Jester," she says, holding the bouquet against her chest like a treasure. "You’re the only one who can bring a little life to this place. Sometimes, I forget we’re still capable of appreciating something beautiful."

  Location: Training Track

  Diego is practicing backflips and parkour over the white furniture, while Jester chases him on his hoverboard, trying to keep up with his partner’s agility while using his high-pitched, playful voice.

  "Faster, Diego! If I run you over with my luxury hoverboard, Silas is going to deduct it from my clown salary!" Jester shouts, laughing as he performs evasive maneuvers around the South African.

  Diego laughs loudly, kicking off a wall and landing perfectly. "You’re too slow in that flying bathtub, Jester! You should let me pilot that thing; I’d wreak havoc in those Oregon ruins!"

  "No way! My drones are jealous of this toy," Jester performs a finger trick, making a small coin appear behind Diego’s ear. "Here, a prize for your agility. Use it to buy some luck from Zack."

  "Thanks, clown!" Diego tucks the coin away with a charismatic glint in his eyes. "You’re the man. With you watching over us from above and me running down here, nobody touches the Reapers. Let's put on a show today!"

  Location: Dormitory Access Hallway

  Fabrizio is walking toward his room when Elijah emerges from a side shadow, spinning a gold coin between his knuckles.

  "You’re as silent as I am, Fabrizio. It’s almost annoying walking beside you and not even hearing the leather creak," Elijah comments in his friendly tone, slightly blocking the path with a smile.

  Fabrizio stops and stares at Elijah, his eyes cold and expressionless. "Silence is a tool, not a magic trick, Elijah. What do you want? Silas has already handed out the patrol positions for tonight."

  "I just wanted to know if you’d be up for some real training tomorrow. No metal dummies, just the two of us," Elijah proposes, the coin stopping abruptly in his hand. "I want to see if your scythes can keep up with my Five-Seven."

  "Don't waste your time, Elijah. I don't fight for sport or pleasure like you do," Fabrizio responds, stepping around him and continuing to walk. "I only draw my weapons to finish targets. And you’re still part of the group... for now."

  Location: Containment Cell Corridor

  Jester glides on his hoverboard, keeping pace with Lil’s heavy footsteps. The clown is balancing a rubber nose on the tip of his finger while Lil drags his giant scythe, producing a metallic rasp against the white floor.

  "Lil, big guy! Silas said you’re looking like a volcano about to blow," Jester says in his high-pitched, bouncy voice. "If you need a training target, I can program a drone to scream 'please' while you cut it. What do you think?"

  Lil stops abruptly, his breathing turning heavy beneath his psychotic-smile mask. "I don't need machines, clown. I need trembling flesh. The silence of this place... it gives me orders. It tells me to clean the white with red."

  "Oh, the silence is a demanding master!" Jester laughs, performing a mid-air pirouette on the hoverboard. "But try to hold it in until tonight. If you mess up the hallway now, Ian will have a nervous breakdown and I’ll have to mediate the fight. And nobody wants to see a sad clown, right?"

  Location: Supply Depot

  Andrew is sitting on top of an ammo crate, chewing on a handful of sour gummy worms. Jester appears upside down, hanging by a cable from the ceiling, coming face-to-face with the youngest Reaper.

  "Gummy worms for breakfast? If Colonel Turner were here, he’d turn you into a dentist's experiment, Andrew!" Jester exclaims, his antennas wobbling.

  Andrew doesn't even flinch; he just offers a green gummy to the clown. "The world ended, Jester. If I die today, I want my blood to taste like sugar."

  "Fair enough! But save some energy," Jester returns to his hoverboard with a flip. "I saw on the sensors that you’ve been 'forgetting' to clean your machete. If the blood dries on the blade, it loses its shine. And you know I love seeing things sparkle in my drone videos."

  Location: Common Lounge

  Zack is performing a levitation trick with a playing card while Diego laughs nearby. Jester enters the room juggling three live grenades, maintaining a frantic rhythm with his excited clown voice.

  "Zack! I bet my new hat the cards say someone’s getting a kick in the teeth today!" Jester laughs, catching the grenades and tucking them into his suit with a speed that blurs the vision.

  Zack pulls a card and smirks, revealing the Queen of Spades. "Fate is restless today, clown. There’s a strange energy in the air. The cards say the group's balance will be tested before sunset."

  "Oh, fate is a prankster, just like me!" Jester makes a funny face with his mask. "But careful, Zack. Sometimes the Joker shows up when no one’s looking to steal the pot. Keep your eye on the table!"

  Location: Base Interior Courtyard

  The group is gathered for equipment check-out when Jester, gliding slowly around Fabrizio, lets out an acid remark in his high-pitched voice: "You know, Fabri... I’ve been looking at the recordings. Your sister Sílvia is a real treat, isn't she? A goddess of death... makes me want to be more than just a brother to her."

  The reaction is instantaneous. Fabrizio growls: "You filthy clown." He draws his two hand-scythes with a metallic snap, his blonde eyes flashing with hatred beneath his hood. He lunges with a sequence of arching slashes, but Jester, on his hoverboard, dodges every blow with irritating ease, laughing like a madman.

  Fabrizio is a master, but Jester seems to read his movements before they even happen. In one sudden motion, Jester leaps from the hoverboard, spins in the air, and kicks Fabrizio’s wrist, disarming him, before sweeping his legs and slamming the twin to the floor. Jester steps firmly on Fabrizio’s head, pinning him against the white floor.

  Silence falls over the other nine Reapers. Jester activates his voice modifier, and his voice becomes a dark, deadly thunder as he glares at the group: "Who’s next?"

  The tension is suffocating until he deactivates the filter, returning to his squeaky clown voice. He steps off Fabrizio and reaches out a hand to help him up, laughing: "Hey, hey! I’m just playing with you guys! Chill! It’s just that sometimes I get jealous of not being part of a duo, you know? I need a little attention!"

  Location: Sterile Infirmary (Fabrizio cleaning a light cut on his face)

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  Elijah watches Fabrizio through the reflection in the glass, maintaining his calm and disturbing smile. "He moved at a frequency even my reflexes couldn’t catch, Fabri. Jester isn't just a strategist; he’s a predator who chose to wear bells just to give us a chance to hear when death arrives."

  Fabrizio presses the bandage, his eyes fixed on the white wall with contained rage. "He insulted Sílvia just to test me. He knew I’d attack without thinking. That clown isn’t one of us, Elijah. He’s something worse that my father created."

  "Worse? I’d say... enhanced," Elijah comments, elegantly twirling a combat knife. "The way he disabled your joints was poetic. Don’t be angry, my friend. Today we learned that the court 'fool' is the one truly holding the scepter in this base."

  Location: Cafeteria Counter

  Sílvia is sitting next to Andrew, watching the youngest Reaper sort small piles of gummy bears by color. She reaches out her hand and, in a rare gesture of generosity, he hands her a red heart-shaped gummy without taking his eyes off his stash.

  "You should eat something real before the mission, Andrew. All that sugar will make you shaky when you need to hold your machete," Sílvia says in a soft, almost motherly voice. "Do you want me to ask Silas to release one of the special fruit rations for you?"

  Andrew chews noisily, shrugging with his usual petulance. "Sugar is fuel, Sílvia. Besides, Jester told me that if I eat all the green ones, I’ll be faster than his drone. He’s crazy, but his candy is good."

  Sílvia smiles slightly, ruffling the brunette boy’s curls. "Don't believe everything Jester says, kiddo. But save that heart for later. We’re going to need all the sweetness we can get once we walk out that door."

  Location: Observation Deck

  "The deck says your protection over Fabrizio today was what prevented a disaster, Sílvia," Zack comments with his light sarcasm. "If you hadn't interfered with that look, Jester might have forgotten to turn off his voice modifier."

  Sílvia takes the card, observing the detailed design. "Fate is cruel, Zack. Jester just wanted to prove a point, but he forgot that we’re a family, not just pieces on a board. Do you really believe the cards decide everything?"

  "I believe they give warnings," Zack replies, shuffling the rest of the deck with a dry snap. "And they’re telling you not to carry the world on your shoulders today. Let luck take care of some of the dirty work for you."

  Location: Quiet Corner of the Hangar (Lil sitting on the floor, hugging his knees)

  Lil is in a moment of post-outbreak introspection, trembling slightly as he looks at his own hands. Sílvia approaches silently and sits on the cold floor beside him, placing a delicate hand on his shoulder.

  "Has the noise in your head stopped, Lil?" she asks in a welcoming whisper. Lil looks at her with wide eyes, but there is no aggression, only a childlike vulnerability he only shows to her. "It’s okay. No one is giving you orders right now."

  Lil relaxes his shoulders and leans his head against the white wall, sighing. "Sílvia... the lights in here are too bright. They make the memories shine. But your voice is... warm. Like the sun we used to see before the Fall. You are good."

  Sílvia tilts her head and rests it against his shoulder, a gesture of pure fraternal affection. "I’m here, 'man from below.' Let's just be silent together for a minute. Just the two of us. No missions, no blood. Just the now."

  Location: Optics Calibration Room

  Ian is focused, adjusting the thermal lens of Sílvia’s rifle under a surgical light. Sílvia watches his steady hands, noting how he treats the weapon with a rigor he never shows toward people. The silence is absolute, broken only by the metallic clicks of Ian’s tools.

  "Thank you for adjusting my rifle, Ian. Silas says you're the only one who understands the soul of these machines as much as I understand the distance of the targets," Sílvia says, breaking the ice with a soft, respectful voice.

  Ian finishes the adjustment and slides the rifle across the white table to her without changing his serious expression. "Guns don’t have souls, Sílvia. They have mechanics and physics. If you trust the soul, you fail. If you trust the calibration, the target dies as planned."

  Sílvia takes the weapon and feels the perfect balance of the weight. "You’re so pragmatic it’s almost frightening, Ian. Sometimes I think you’re the only one of us the lab truly managed to turn completely into a tool."

  "The difference between a tool and a victim is utility," Ian replies, picking up his own rifle. "Keep the crosshairs on center mass. The aesthetics of the shot don't matter, only the result. Happy hunting."

  Location: Hallway of Mirrors (En route to the Hangar)

  "Sílvia, my dear goddess, you are exceptionally pale today. The contrast with your white hair is a work of art that deserves to be painted, not just filmed by Jester’s drones," Aiden comments in his sadistic and vain tone.

  Sílvia stops for a moment, looking at his bow. "Your obsession with appearance is going to be the death of you, Aiden. The poison on your arrows is lethal, but your vanity is a trail any novice tracker could follow."

  Aiden laughs, running a hand through his hair. "If they follow me, they’ll have the privilege of seeing perfection before they choke to death. Besides, if I die, I want to be presentable. Imagine the horror of being an ugly corpse in a world this gray?"

  "You’re incorrigible," she says with a slight shake of her head, almost smiling. "Just make sure your music doesn't attract too much attention today. I prefer the silence of my M4 to the noise of your thorns."

  Location: Fabrizio’s Room

  Sílvia is sitting on the bed, combing her hair, when Fabrizio enters and sits beside her. He looks at her for a long time in silence, his calm and taciturn expression softening into something bordering on pure melancholy.

  "You know... today, when the sun hit your face in the courtyard, I saw Mom in you," Fabrizio murmurs, his voice meant only for her ears. "The same eyes, the same way you tilt your head when you're thinking about something sad."

  Sílvia stops combing and looks at her brother, her eyes shimmering slightly. "Do you think so? I barely remember her face without the veil of the Colonel’s memories. It’s strange being the copy of someone the lab tried to erase from our history."

  Fabrizio places his hand over hers, squeezing firmly. "Dad gave us the blood, but she gave us the blood and that look. You are what’s left of the good in her, Sílvia. That’s why I’d kill everyone on this base if anyone dared to tarnish that resemblance."

  "We are what’s left of her, Fabri," she leans her head on his shoulder. "As long as we’re together, she hasn't fully died. Even if we are gods of death, we are still her children."

  Location: Sílvia’s Room (Middle of the night)

  Sílvia wakes up abruptly to an almost inaudible jingle. She looks up and sees Jester hanging upside down from the ventilation duct, without the voice modifier, just his jester suit swaying in the dark.

  "Happy... uh... Tuesday morning, Sílvia!" Jester whispers in his high, cheerful voice. "I was patrolling the group’s dreams and noticed yours were very gray. So, I brought a little 'magic' from the CIA’s secret storage."

  He lowers himself slightly by the cable and holds out a round, heavy object. Sílvia takes it: it’s an antique snow globe. As she shakes it, small white flakes float over a lonely cabin in a miniature forest.

  "It’s beautiful, Jester. Is it real?" she asks, touching the cold glass as the artificial snow falls slowly. "It looks like... peace. Something we don't have down here."

  "I found it in a box labeled 'Emotional Trash.' Imagine that!" Jester laughs softly, heading back into the duct. "Now you have a storm you can control. Sleep well, Queen. The clown is watching the shadows for you."

  Location: Upper Watchtower – HQ Access Perimeter (Extra Scene)

  Sílvia stood with her arms leaning on the steel railing, feeling the cold valley wind. Below, stretching for miles, the dry cornfield whispered as something much faster than the wind passed through it. Through tactical binoculars, she watched the trail of destruction. The Scarecrows were in full swing.

  "They're lively today," Jester commented beside her, adjusting the radio frequency to catch the noisy roar of chainsaws rising from the plain. "A group of scavengers tried to take a shortcut through the western sector. Poor souls... didn't last five minutes."

  Sílvia took the binoculars and focused on one of the figures. One of the 40 Poles, wearing filthy rags and a hand-stitched clown mask, raised his chainsaw in salute to the tower, as if he knew his "gods" were watching.

  "Look at them, Jester," Sílvia gave a genuine smile, a rare sight. "They’re cute, aren’t they? The way they run through the husks... it looks like a children's play, if the play were written by a psychopath."

  "They’re our guard clowns," Jester giggled, leaning dangerously far out from the tower. "The Enforcers were useful, but the Scarecrows have soul. They don't kill just by order; they kill out of devotion. They saw us getting off the chopper yesterday and their leader almost had a religious breakdown in the mud."

  For the Reapers, that faction was the only one that deserved the right to exist on the path to their home. Seeing those crazy Poles protecting the HQ surroundings with almost mystical zeal brought a bizarre comfort to the duo.

  "Let them have the scavengers' remains," Sílvia said, turning away from the railing and starting to walk toward the stairs leading to the dorms. "It’s good to have neighbors who understand the value of a good mask."

  Jester let out one last whistle toward the cornfield, a sharp signal that made the Scarecrows below stop for a second in silent reverence before he followed the "Queen" back to the quarters.

  Location: Simulation Room (Intense white lights)

  Elijah circles Jester, who stands in the center of the room without his hoverboard, looking strangely human and indifferent. Elijah lunges with a lightning-fast Karate strike, but Jester merely tilts his head millimeters to the side, letting the punch glide past.

  "You’re the only one who doesn't try to hit me with anger, Elijah. That makes your moves far too predictable for my processing," Jester says in his high-pitched voice, though without his usual cheer. "A lack of killer intent is a calculation error."

  Elijah smiles, switching to a Jiu-Jitsu stance and feinting a dive for the clown’s legs. "It’s not a lack of intent, Jester. It’s just that I feel no need to rush. Your indifference is what fascinates me; you fight as if you already know the end of the book."

  "I know the end of every book in this place," Jester replies, applying an inverted armbar with a mechanical speed that forces Elijah to roll away. "The ending is always the same: silence and dust. Try again, prodigy. Try to surprise me."

  Location: Melee Weapon Maintenance Area

  Lil is sharpening his giant scythe with a whetstone, his eyes fixed on the metal. Elijah enters the room and sits at the workbench across from him, beginning to clean his throwing knives with a calm that seems to irritate Lil’s unstable aura.

  "The sound of your stone is out of rhythm, Lil. If you keep going like that, you’ll create micro-fractures in the blade," Elijah says in his soft, friendly voice. "Do you want me to show you how Krav Maga utilizes the weight of the blade to save energy on the cut?"

  Lil stops mid-motion, his breathing turning heavy beneath his mask. "Are you... are you giving me instructions, Elijah? Are you trying to tell me how to care for my only friend? Are you giving me an ORDER?"

  Elijah doesn't flinch, maintaining his gentle smile as he spins a knife between his fingers. "It’s not an order, Lil. It’s just advice from a brother. If your scythe breaks, you’ll have to use your hands. And hands... hands feel much more pain when crushing bone."

  Lil glares at Elijah for long seconds, his psychological trigger trembling on the edge of an outburst, until he finally relaxes his shoulders. "Hands are dirty. The scythe is clean. Don’t give orders, prodigy. Just... stay out of my swing's reach."

  Location: Hangar Access Corridor

  Fabrizio walks with haste but stops when he sees Lil standing before a white wall, punching the concrete with clenched fists until his knuckles bleed. Fabrizio watches the bloodstains marring the CIA’s impeccable white and frowns beneath his hood.

  "Stop that, Lil. You’ll damage your tendons before the mission," Fabrizio says with his absolute, taciturn efficiency. "Silas needs you to be able to hold the weight of the scythe, not break the walls of our home."

  Lil turns slowly, blood dripping from his fingers, his eyes wide. "The wall doesn't scream, Fabrizio! It’s too white! It looks back at me and says nothing! I need it to feel what I feel inside!"

  Fabrizio approaches and grips Lil’s bloody wrist firmly but without aggression. "Save your pain for the enemies. If you break now, Sílvia will be sad. And you know she’s the only one who cares about your silence."

  The mention of Sílvia’s name makes Lil drop his guard instantly. He looks at his own hands and then at Fabrizio. "She likes the white. I’ll stop. For her. But don’t ask me to clean the blood, Fabrizio. The blood is the only real thing here."

  Location: Close Quarters Training Room

  Andrew is trying to strike Elijah with his hunting machete, but Elijah moves as if he were made of smoke, dodging every blow with his hands behind his back, maintaining an encouraging and friendly tone that irritates the youngest.

  "More speed, Andrew! Your feet are glued to the floor like you’ve been eating too much candy!" Elijah laughs softly, giving him a light shove that makes him stumble.

  Andrew recovers with a flip and lunges again, snarling. "Stop playing, Elijah! Fight for real! I want to see if your Jiu-Jitsu works against someone who isn't afraid of taking a cut to the face!"

  "Fear isn't what stops me, kid. It’s technique," Elijah blocks Andrew’s arm and immobilizes him in a split second. "You fight with rage. Rage is noisy. I fight with pleasure. Pleasure is silent and focused. Learn to enjoy the fight, and you’ll hit me."

  Andrew pulls away with a yank, wiping sweat from his forehead. "I like killing, not training. But one day, Elijah... one day I’ll be faster than you. And then I’ll be the deadliest Reaper in this group."

  Location: Weapon Workshop (White benches and overhead lighting)

  Elijah is sitting calmly, his eyes focused as he slides the loaded magazine into his Five-Seven with surgical precision. Sílvia approaches from behind, hiding a generous slice of Jester’s root pie on a polymer plate.

  "Elijah, you’re way too tense with that calibration," Sílvia says in a falsely sweet voice. Before the prodigy can react with his superhuman reflexes, she smashes the pie directly against his skull mask, covering the fixed grin in cream and crumbs.

  Elijah freezes with the gun in his hand, the filling dripping through the slits of the mask. He remains silent for five seconds, until he lets out a low, genuinely friendly laugh. "The sugar really is affecting your judgment, Sílvia. But I admit... Jester outdid himself with the filling."

  "Consider that my ritual for today," Sílvia laughs, wiping a bit of cream from her own finger. "You talk so much about pleasure in the fight, I thought you’d like to feel the pleasure of a sweet defeat for once in your life."

  Location: Sterile Command Access Corridor

  Silas walks forward, stopping dead in front of Jester. "I want the drones in thermal sweep formation in quadrant 4, Jester. No tricks, no delays. That’s a direct order," Silas says, his low, authoritative voice echoing through the white corridor.

  Jester brings his hoverboard to a halt, tilting his head as his antennas wobble. "Sure thing, Silly! Order received and noted in my imaginary little notebook!" He starts in his usual high-pitched voice, but suddenly hops off his device and walks right up to Silas, activating his voice modifier.

  Jester’s heavy, metallic tone vibrates in the air as he lightly taps Silas’s shoulder. "You might be the leader, but me? I’m the 'big brain' of this place," he whispers, the distorted voice carrying an ancestral coldness. "Don't forget that 10 years ago, I was the only one in the project you didn't beat! Remember the real reason you wear that headband, you piece of shit."

  Silas freezes, his icy eyes fixed on the void as the memory of the laboratory and that brutal stalemate resurfaces. Jester deactivates the modifier instantly, hops back onto his hoverboard, and goes on his way, skipping and humming a circus tune.

  Silas remains motionless in the corridor for a long time, processing the veiled threat and the historical truth Jester had just thrown in his face. The leader of the Reapers knows that on the base's chessboard, the Clown is the only piece he cannot capture.

  Sílvia and Jester (The Plan)

  Location: Sílvia’s private bathroom (White ceramic walls and steam)

  Jester is gliding silently down the hallway when he sees the door ajar. Before he can react, Sílvia’s pale hand pulls him inside and locks the door. "Queen? What are you doing? I have drones to calibrate!" he whispers in his squeaky voice, confused.

  Sílvia places a finger over the lips of Jester’s mask, her eyes shining with a rare trace of mischief. "Today is mine and Fabrizio's birthday. I want to test something to see if he loses his mind," she murmurs, holding back a laugh. Suddenly, she takes a deep breath and begins to moan loudly against the white door: "Oh Jester, you animal! Don't stop, don't stop!"

  "Why didn't you tell me you were this skilled, Jester? My God!" she screams, stifling her laughter with her hand while looking at the clown. Jester understands the plan instantly; he hunches over, covering his gloved mouth with his hands to keep from exploding into a gale of laughter.

  To complete the performance, Jester grabs a shampoo bottle and begins banging it rhythmically against the metal wall, creating an echoing thudding sound. He gives a "thumbs up" to Sílvia while she continues the vocal performance that is about to bring the base down.

  The Group's Reaction

  Location: The White Room

  In the white sofa area, the reaction is immediate. Diego’s eyes go wide, and he drops his smoke grenade on the floor. "Guys... the clown? Seriously? I thought he only liked circuits and batteries!" he comments, caught between shock and laughter. Zack stops shuffling his cards, staring at the ceiling. "The deck didn't predict this... unexpected 'move.' Jester really pulled the Joker today."

  Andrew chews his candy slowly, an expression of disgust mixed with curiosity. "What an annoying racket. If Silas hears this, he’ll turn Jester into scrap metal before dinner," the youngest grumbles. Lil, on the other hand, tilts his head to the side, looking fascinated. "The sound... it's different from the screams. Is it a sound of... order? I don't understand."

  Meanwhile, in the hallway, Elijah walks calmly past the bathroom door. He stops for a second, hears Sílvia’s performance and the sound of the shampoo bottle, and lets out a nasal laugh, shaking his head with his usual smoothness. "That little clown..." Elijah whispers to himself, continuing on his way with an amused smile beneath his mask. "He really knows how to set a white house on fire."

  Location: Kitchen

  In the kitchen, the sound carries through the ventilation ducts. Silas stops cutting his bread, his knife frozen in mid-air and his icy eyes fixed on the wall. Ian wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin, maintaining his pragmatic expression but with one eyebrow slightly raised. Aiden lets out a short laugh, fixing his hair. "Well, it seems Jester has talents that even the drones don't pick up, doesn't he?"

  Fabrizio is standing in the center of the kitchen, visibly trembling. "What... is that idiot... doing with my other half?" he hisses, his voice heavy with a deadly hatred that makes the room's temperature feel like it's dropping.

  He draws his hand-scythes with a violent snap, his eyes bloodshot. "I'm going to kill him! I'm going to rip every bell off that suit and shove them down his throat!" he roars, charging toward the door in a state of absolute fury that even Silas doesn't try to stop.

  Inside the bathroom, Sílvia and Jester trade a look of amused panic as they hear Fabrizio’s heavy footsteps and screams approaching. The plan worked: the calmest Reaper on base has finally lost control, and the Turner twins' birthday has just become the loudest day in CIA history.

  Location: Hallway outside the private bathroom

  Fabrizio has his scythes in hand, ready to kick the door down, when the handle turns. Sílvia opens the door with an icy calm, wrapped only in a white towel, her wet white hair clinging to her pale shoulders. Behind her, Jester emerges without his suit, wearing only blue and red underwear that matches his mask and antennas. For the first time, his laboratory scars are exposed—deep marks from surgeries and experiments covering his lean torso.

  Fabrizio freezes, his heavy breathing dying in his throat. He stares at his sister, then at the black eyes of Jester’s cloth mask, unable to utter a single word; the shock of seeing the scene he imagined to be real paralyzes him like venom. Sílvia holds her brother’s gaze, maintaining a deadpan, distant expression as if nothing unusual were happening.

  "Hey, brother. Did the noise bother you? My apologies," Sílvia says, her voice sounding like a razor cutting through the hallway’s silence. "I needed to relieve myself of the weight of the missions, and Jester proved to be... very willing to help. Any problem with my choice?"

  Fabrizio remains static, his hands trembling over the hilts of his scythes, completely ensnared by the psychological trap his sister set. Jester walks up to Fabrizio and gives the twin two friendly taps on the shoulder, making the bells jingle right in the face of the paralyzed fighter.

  Without another word, Sílvia and Jester walk past him, side by side down the corridor. They cross the room under the dumbfounded gazes of Diego, Zack, Lil, and Andrew, and enter the kitchen before a Silas and an Ian who, for the first time in ten years, seem not to know how to react to what they are seeing.

  The Day’s Closing

  Location: Main Hall of the CIA Base

  The silence in the base has never been so dense, but this time it isn't the silence of efficiency—it’s the silence of total perplexity. Jester, still in his underwear and mask, hops onto his hoverboard and begins to float around the kitchen table, grabbing an apple and taking a loud bite while looking at Silas.

  Sílvia walks toward her room with the posture of a queen, stopping only to look back and see Fabrizio still standing in the hallway, staring into space. She lets out a low sigh, satisfied to have proven that, even among killing machines, she is still the one who holds emotional control over her brother.

  "Night is falling," Silas’s voice finally resonates, attempting to restore order, though his gaze still avoids Jester’s exposed scars. "Gear up. We have a forest to silence. And Jester... put your damn pants on."

  Jester simply gives a comical military salute, laughing in his high-pitched voice as he guns the hoverboard toward his quarters.

  The Awakening of Death

  Location: Cascade Forest / Reaper HQ

  As the white CIA base plunges into security mode, the scenery shifts to the damp, suffocating darkness of Cascade. Ten black silhouettes advance through the ancient trees with ghostly coordination. The black tactical uniforms absorb what little moonlight remains, and the skull masks—from Elijah’s fixed grin to Sílvia’s tearful face—glow like omens of doom among the brush. There is no sound of footsteps, only the subtle brush of metal against leather and heavy breathing distorted by voice modifiers.

  Far away, in the icy comfort of the HQ, Jester is slumped on the white sofa, monitoring the group’s movement through a tablet. He is without his cloth mask, revealing only the lower half of his face as he calmly enjoys a bowl of noodles. The glow of the screens reflects off his chin, and a smirk plays on his lips as he watches his siblings' thermal signatures move into position.

  "They’re waiting for us, Silly," Jester murmurs into the open mic, his voice wavering one last time between amusement and the abyss. "They think twig crosses will keep them safe. They want death? Well... let's give them what they asked for."

  The Night Folk move forward, merging with the shadows of the forest. The time for games is over. The calm of the base was merely the prelude to the storm of blood about to break over Oregon. The Reapers are loose, and the hunt has finally begun.

  End of Chapter